There Are Monsters
by WhereTheMildThingsAre
Summary: What really lurks at the bottom of the lake? Is a monster of myth really to blame for a string of gruesome murders?


Ah, here we go. -stretches-

I've been meaning to get this written, and now with my winter break I've finally found the time to. I decided to try something a wee bit different than what I might normally go for, in the hopes of edging closer towards my goal of writing a Sherlock Holmes/League of Extraordinary Gentlemen cross-over. -starry eyes-

Ahem. But anyway... This one will follow up on my previous story _The Call of the Chickadee_, so I would suggest reading it before this one as at least one character will not be familiar to you unless you do so. You don't have to, of course, merely a suggestion. Also, I feel like including Mary in this because she doesn't get enough credit. We don't see nearly enough of her and I happen to like her very much. She's got great character!

So, I hope this is sufficient to appease your pallets. I know I'm not the best of writers and sometimes I have spurts of moving too fast or too slow... but I suppose that the more I write, the more I might improve. So thank you in advance for time!

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**DISCLAIMER: **If I owned it, well, you'd probably know. I only get to play with them occasionally.

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**Chapter I:** Once More Unto the Breach

I have explained before in one of what I have dubbed my 'Lost Narratives' that until now, certain cases, certain events, have been kept from the public to protect those within them. It has come to the point where I feel these tales must be told; to correct the misconceptions adopted by the general public as a result of their concealment. To do so, I have presented not only my own observations, but those of my dearest friend Sherlock Holmes as well as excerpts from the private diaries of Emily Mayhew, left to my person following her passing.

And so, with little left to say upon this matter at this time, I leave you to read of one of the more curious adventures of the world's foremost consulting detective.

* * *

"It's been far too long, Holmes," I said, greeting my old friend with a hearty handshake.

"Indeed, it has," Sherlock Holmes agreed, taking a seat in my sitting room. "It would seem married life has left you rather... occupied."

I rubbed at the back of my neck with some embarrassment. It was true; I had not seen Holmes and had hardly written to him since my marriage. I had read of his further exploits in the papers, of course, and more than once had found myself itching to write of them myself. To find myself once again in the heart of an adventure alongside him.

"I'm terribly sorry, Holmes," I apologized sincerely. "In truth I have been very busy indeed."

"Oh, of that I have no doubt. What with your practice as well as your recent attempts to expand your small family," he answered. I felt a flush rise to my cheeks, somewhat unsurprised that he knew Mary and I were trying to conceive. He looked over my shoulder. "Ah, is that the lovely Mrs. Watson I spy?"

I twisted in my seat, watching my wife approach with a tray of tea. She offered my friend a glowing smile as she set it upon the table between us.

"Why, Mr. Holmes, how lovely to see you again," she said, offering him her hand. "What brings you here?"

Holmes took it, nodding his head slightly in some show of respect. Strange... It seemed he had finally grown used to the idea that I was a married man now.

"The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Watson," he replied. "As far as my reason for coming, I was hoping to borrow your husband for a time. I've received a most... _interesting _case and thought that I should be lost without my Boswell."

My stomach did a sudden flip of joy at the prospect, only to be weighed down once more by the sudden leaden weight of reality. I couldn't very well just up and leave my practice to go traipsing off on an adventure, no matter how much I may have wanted it. Not to mention, I had no idea of how Mary would take to the idea and the thought of leaving her alone for such a period of time did not sit well with me.

"I should think that would be all right with me," Mary answered, pouring a cup of tea for both my friend and myself. I looked to her quizzically. "John, only a blind man would overlook the way you've been following Mr. Holmes's exploits in the papers. You've been working so very hard as of late and I think it might be beneficial for you to take some time off to do something that is enjoyable to you."

This time, I was not the only one with a look of surprise on my face. Both Holmes and I regarded my wife in the most curious of manners. She sighed slightly, her perfect pink lips pulled into something of a pout.

"It was thanks to Mr. Holmes that we met in the first place," she explained. "I would be doing him a great disservice by denying his request. Besides," she placed her hand over mine, "I'm very certain I would love to see another of your narratives in print."

I chuckled slightly. "Well, since you seem so intent on kicking me out of our home..."

"Oh, you cheeky...!"

I smiled as she playfully slapped my arm, turning her attention to Holmes.

"Nothing too dangerous I hope?"

"No, I shouldn't think so," Holmes answered with a shrug. Though, there was something in his keen grey eyes that made me wonder.

"And when will you be leaving?"

"To-night."

"Yes, well, you seem to be forgetting my need for someone to cover my practice," I interrupted suddenly.

"That has been taken care of," Holmes assured me, sipping lightly at his tea.

I gawked. "Taken care of? But how?"

"You will recall a case we worked on earlier in our association some four or five years ago involving an old friend of yours," Holmes explained. "Samuel, the eldest son of your friend, has made quite a name for himself in the medical field and has agreed to cover your practice for any length of time we are gone."

How could I forget? That case had reunited me with my old schoolmate, Charles Mayhew, and introduced us to his family; including his very mischievous twins. Edward, having since received his own degree in medicine, often dropped by for a chat, though I hadn't seen him in some months.

"That's very kind of him," Mary said.

"He has also agreed to keep an eye on Mrs. Watson, for he told me he was certain you would worry if he did not," Holmes said to me.

"I do not need looking after," Mary stated.

"I'm sure he would only be checking in on you and it would put my heart at ease knowing there was someone I could trust nearby," I informed her.

She paused momentarily before nodding. "Very well. But do take of John for me, Mr. Holmes."

"Of course," my friend replied. "Now, Watson. When you are ready, you shall pack your things and we shall pick up the final member of our party."

I raised an eyebrow at this, but decided I would ask questions later. Holmes did love his secrets, after all.

* * *

Some hours later, Holmes and I made our way through the crowded space of a popular restaurant, known as The Tap and Tabard (which was both pub and inn), some blocks away from Baker Street. It was a loud yet somehow welcoming atmosphere, as full of jovial banter as it was cigarette smoke. I tossed Holmes a curious stare, to which he only shook his head with a mysterious grin and beckoned me to follow. Just what kind of man could we be after in such a place?

To my surprise, Holmes spoke with the bartender who, after a swift nod of understanding, lead us behind the counter to a door hidden from the other patron's view. Tipping his hat in thanks, Holmes lead the way up the flight of stairs with I close at his heels.

When we emerged, we were standing in a large room similar to the one from which we'd just come, but not quite so loud and stuffy. Various patrons were seated at tables, discussing things over meals or cups of coffee. A bright laugh caught my attention.

"Ah, there we are," Holmes announced, crossing the room quickly.

As we neared our intended table, I suddenly grew aware of just who it was we were after.

"Edward!" I exclaimed.

Edward Mayhew turned in his seat, surprise and amusement etched into his pale, freckled features. A wide grin broke across his face at the sight of us and he all but leaped from his seat to greet us, wringing my hand heartily.

"What a surprise! What a wonderful surprise! Please, sit, sit!" Edward beckoned excitedly, pulling up two more chairs.

"We can't stay long, Dr. Mayhew," Holmes informed him.

The young man beamed at my friend's use of his proper title. One of the other younger men cleared his throat, regarding us with interest.

"Eh? Oh, of course," Edward said, waving an impatient hand. "This is Jeks and Utty."

A copper haired young man rolled his eyes. "Really, Edward."

"All right, all right, have it your way then, Henry" Edward said with a dramatic sigh. "These are my good friends Dr. Henry Jekyll M.D., D.C.L., L.L.D., F.R.S.,— "

"Aha, that's enough, Edward," Jekyll interrupted, unable to keep a flush of pride from rising to his cheeks.

"...and Gabriel Utterson, attorney at law."

The copper haired young fellow, Henry Jekyll, shook our hands warmly while his counterpart, a quiet dark haired young man, Gabriel Utterson, nodded respectfully.

"And your other friends are?" Utterson prodded.

"My other friends, as you put it, would be Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson," Edward introduced us.

"Of course!" Jekyll exclaimed suddenly. "Goodness, I'm surprised I hadn't recognized you at first glance. Edward speaks of you frequently."

"In fact, he never shuts up," Utterson added, a cool smirk playing across his face as he traced the rim of his glass with a forefinger.

"Utty, you wound me," Edward said, before looking to Holmes and myself. "But what brings you here?"

"A case," Holmes stated shortly.

"And you require my services?" Edward questioned, blue eyes bright with interest.

"They would be... useful... yes," Holmes answered.

"Then I would be most pleased," Edward said with a chuckle. "It's been far too long and I fear I'm growing lazy."

"Hardly, old friend," Jekyll said with a grin. "Not with the way you insist on propelling yourself over my garden wall each and every Saturday morning."

"Oh, pish posh, it is but child's play!" Edward corrected. "Why, I could tell you of any number of times while I was on the Greek Isles when Emmy and I would—"

Holmes cleared his throat impatiently. "Our train for Scotland will be leaving this evening and you still need to pack."

"Oh. Of course," Edward said. He looked to his two friends. "I'm dreadfully sorry to cut our time short... You'll forgive me, I hope, gentlemen?"

"Of course," Jekyll answered, rising to shake his hand. "There is always next week, and you appear to have a far more interesting agenda in front of you as opposed to rotting away in this place with the likes of us."

"You leave me to a sad fate, Mayhew," Utterson sighed, eying his empty glass wistfully.

"I'll be sure to bring you a souvenir, then," Edward commented. "Well, I'll take my leave. I shall write you before the week is out."

And with that we made our exit, leaving Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Utterson to their previous conversation.

* * *

As our train rattled on and the sun began to set, I could not help but feel somewhat at ease as I watched Holmes sit with his eyes closed, arms folded over his chest and Edward peering out his window like an over-eager hunting dog. It was a strange thing, no doubt, considering I had no idea what we could have been getting ourselves into. However, it was something so very familiar to me that it felt very satisfying to return to it.

"Holmes?" I prodded gently.

"Yes, Watson?" he replied, not bothering to look at me.

"Just what sort of case would bring you all the way to Scotland?" I inquired.

"A murder case," he answered.

"Certainly not a normal murder ca—good Lord, would you look at the size of that cow!" Edward ejaculated, still fixated on the world outside our train.

"No, it is quite interesting," Holmes said, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his thin lips. "One involving a bit of the local lore of the area we are to be investigating."

"What sort of lore?" I pried.

"Well, certainly such a romanticist as yourself will have heard of the Loch Ness Monster."

* * *

Hrm, I'm tired. Well, as you may have noticed I opted for the younger Jekyll of the _League of Extraordinary Gentlemen_ movie, rather than the 50ish Jekyll of the original novel. He fits better as a plot device. And yes, the Loch Ness Monster seems a silly thing to write a case on, but I think it will round itself out. I've got a lot of thinking going on about it, so hopefully I won't disappoint. I'm prone to do that, you see. D:


End file.
